Dad?
by Gigantisch Romantisch
Summary: Graf von Krolock decides to put Herbert gently but firmly in his place.


"Dad?"

"Hm?" Von Krolock replied vaguely, his eyes closed. The sun was in the process of coming up and they had retired to their coffins for the day. He could feel death tugging at his senses, ready to claim him for the short daylight hours that this dark winter would give.

"He's cute, isn't he?" Herbert's voice came muffled through the heavy slab of stone closing his sarcophagus.

"Hm," was the carefully neutral reply.

"Do you think he will dance with me at the ball?"

At the mention of the planned festivity Von Krolock opened his eyes, suddenly wide awake, his hunger stirring not in his stomach but in his heart. "He would be stupid not to," the count managed.

His son remained silent for a while. "He would, wouldn't he," Herbert then said smugly.

A small smiled tugged at Krolock's lips and he closed his eyes again. Death's icy fingers crept over his skin. In order to shift his mind from the gnawing hunger he focused on the feeling that in threehundred years he'd never quite got accustomed to. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would satiate it.

He'd almost drifted off when Herbert spoke again.

"You like him too, don't you?"

If his heart had still been beating, it would've stopped in horror now.

"What makes you say that?" He tried to keep his voice level and void of the shock ringing through his body. He'd never thought Herbert was that perceptive to anything other than his own concerns.

"You gave him the sponge." He sounded almost apologetic. Then, bluntly, "You seduced him. Even more than you seduced her."

"She didn't need seduction," he replied gruffly. "She wanted it, but didn't need it. The boy wields a stake and a hammer, albeit inexpertly. I wanted him on my side as soon as I could." It sounded plausible, he thought.

"You didn't bat your eyes twice at that foolish man of learning."

What was Herbert up to? Did he even realise he was torturing his father? The truth was too confusing to admit even to himself, let alone to his beloved but endlessly aggravating son.

"I stroked his ego, I didn't need to do more."

The silence lasted so long that Von Krolock figured Herbert let it rest. He settled a little better into his coffin and prepared to sink into nothingness, a few hours of not being hungry, of being free of this incessant longing.

Herbert's soft voice tore him back from the brink of death. "I understand. You're lonely too."

"It's early," he said, trying to be stern and authorative but he heard the feebleness in his voice. "Better go to sleep, it will be a busy night tomorrow."

"It's all right, dad. I won't judge you."

"There is nothing to be judged!" The count held still for a moment, reigning in the fear masking as anger. "Do whatever you like with that boy, but leave the girl to me. I need her." He so wished it was true. Well, it was. He needed her to appease his minions and to keep the town folk properly scared of him. He didn't need her like he wished he'd need her. He nourished no plans to let her live and become one of them, just like a wolf would not plan on keeping the rabbit he pounced on as a pet.

But the boy… He needed the boy. He needed his budding manhood, his teetering on the lip of understanding life and the world. He needed to be as fresh and open and sweetly innocent as this boy. He wanted to save him from that blundering fool of a professor and to become him, if only for a night.

"He's too cute for his own good, I totally get it."

The primal lust in his son's voice almost made him leap out of his coffin and command him to leave the boy alone, to not touch him. Mine, his whole being bellowed. The boy is mine!

He pressed his fingernails into the flesh of his palms until the wave of anger pulled back and left the beach of his mood smooth and dark as ever. "Go to sleep, Herbert." This time to his relief his voice did sound strong and demanded obedience. Not that would ever work with his son, but it showed he was back in command.

"Good morning, dad." Silence. "Dad?"

"What?" he replied wearily.

"We could share him. I'm sure he has enough for both of us."

The count could hear the echo of his son's insolent smirk in his voice. He took a breath he hadn't needed in three centuries. "Very well," he conceded and the stunned silence drew a smile on his granite features.

"W-what do you mean?"

"We will share the boy Alfred. Together we will show him what it means to be alive. What love feels like."

"T-together?"

Von Krolock knew he shouldn't draw this much pleasure from torturing his son, but nonetheless he did. It was only a matter of time before Herbert would pull back. "Oh yes, together," he pushed relentlessly. "I think your old father can show you a few tricks, too." There had been, after all, that page boy once.

"It's getting early, isn't it? We should sleep. Busy day tomorrow."

The smile even reached Krolock's eyes this time. "You are right. Good day, son."

"Rest well, dad…" He still sounded flustered, the count noticed contently. Good. That will teach him to not press matters that shouldn't be pressed.

Trying not to think about the boy, he let death claim him, wishing like every night neither of them would wake up after sunset.

"Dad!"

"What?!" The count whirled around, cape fluttering around him, and snarled at his son. "I'm busy."

Herbert was too distressed to pay attention to his father's mood. "He beat me, dad. With his umbrella!" He bristled with indignance. "You have to kill him."

"Kill who? What happened?" Von Krolock left Koukol to his chore of decorating the hall and divided all his attention to his son.

"I was in the bathroom, ready to take a bath before the ball, and suddenly the boy rushes in. How indecent."

The count didn't think Alfred would even dare to step outside his room if it didn't pertain to Sarah, let alone strutt into Herbert's bathroom without having a reason, but held his tongue. The faster this story was told, the better.

"He looked sick and I was concerned, but he assured me he was fine and asked about the ball. I decided to see if he could dance and… well, being so close to him…" Herbert lowered his glance bashfully. "I couldn't help myself,could I?"

"What did you do?" he asked wearily.

"Nothing! Not really. I just wanted to nibble a little…" Herbert briefly looked up, considered his father's glance. "Well, I wanted to bite him. Drink his blood. Among other things." Regardless of his being agitated, he was still defiant and ready to unsettle his father. It didn't work and he sagged a little.

"He got away from me and… and… that professor hit me! With his umbrella. On my… " He looked down over his shoulder and pouted.

Despite being stressed out about the ball, the count had hard time not to laugh. "How dare he," he said, trying to hide his amusement.

"I don't know but you have to punish him!"

"I don't think I am going to. Didn't we have an agreement?"

Herbert stared at him. "What kind of agreement?" he asked, reasonably suspicious.

"The boy was to be shared. No nibbles or biting on your own, young man."

The staring became goggling. "Dad! You weren't serious about that!"

The count raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't I?" In truth, he hadn't been. He had no intention of sharing. He wanted the boy for himself.

"But… you… I…" Herbert spluttered, searching for words that would accurately describe his current state of mind. "It's not fair!" he exclaimed at last. With an indignant snort he stomped off, hair fluttering, arms flailing.

Von Krolock stared after his son until the darkness swallowed him and heaved a sigh. Perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut. Not just now, but earlier. Making the boy his would be an even bigger mistake than letting the girl live, and he would be even gladder to make it.


End file.
